Hello. I haven’t left WordPress. I’ve been reading all of you, but I’ve only left a smattering of comments here and there. I haven’t been ignoring anybody; things have been happening in my son’s life that I have had to dedicate all my time to when it comes to getting answers.
You see, his world is falling apart, and that means that mine is too. This blog post is very hard for me to write, so please have an interlude whilst I compose my thoughts.
Okay, I’m back. I’ve sobbed a little over a favourite scene from a favourite film, but I’m okay and perhaps I can write this coherently.
It is not my life that is unravelling. It’s my autistic son’s. The brown stuff is seriously hitting the fan for him and his foster family.
My son is a young man who is able to understand that I am too ill to care for him and that I sent him to carers because I love him and want the best for him – he has grown up knowing that. However, he is unable to understand why he was torn away from a loving foster family a couple of months ago and placed on a psychiatric unit – where he is sectioned to remain until January.
He is also unaware that his foster mother – who had been ill for a long time – passed away two weeks ago. I only found out yesterday. C was a lovely lady with a big heart and I wish that I could have known her for longer – I wish that she hadn’t become sick and I wish that she was still here. My son loved her, and she loved him as if he were her own.
His foster father and foster sister still love R as though he were their blood family. They had my Gremlin torn from them and they want him back; last night I had an insane urge to clean up the spare room and get D to drive me to the psych unit so that we could bring R home and persuade authorities to return him to A because I can’t deal with a violent autistic meltdown and A can – and I want my boy to go back to A and be happy! I would actually be kidnapping my own son though, if I were to do that. I have to be sensible even though my heart is screaming out that this is wrong. Every fibre of my being wants to bring him home and hold him close – but the sensible part of me also realises that I could never hope to deal with a strong young adult having a violent meltdown. That is, after all, why I requested that he be fostered in the first instance.
I don’t even know if R understands death. In a way I hope he doesn’t, because if A wins his case on Wednesday R will be going home and will be too happy about that to be really worried about figuring out other things. On the other hand, he would definitely notice that C isn’t there any more and he would question that in his own way. I think he can understand “Not here any more” and “Gone away”, but would that be enough for him?
I’m sorry; my blog has descended into a complete mess recently. Please do forgive me; my son, his foster family and I have had a lot to deal with – but I should be back to my usual blogging self soon. Thank you for your patience and understanding.